I see ghosts
by Alias Blackclaw
Summary: She had told him the news on a rainy day, a day in January where the ice and sleet were falling in sheets. She had told him something he didn't want to hear. Claire had sat before him, her hands folded, her head down and brilliant blue eyes distant...


_A/N Tried something a little different in light of how busy I have been. I don't quite know what inspired me, bu I was inspired to write this, and dedicate it to my loyal reviewer, Marna. Other projects are still in the making, but I needed a bit of a break from the long plot to TRY my hand at a bit of a supernatural thing. ._. I challenge you all to write a short Resident Evil ghost story. Ghost stories are tough ._.. Hope you enjoy!  
_

_~Alias  
_

**_I see ghosts…_**

She had told him the news on a rainy day, a day in January where the ice and sleet were falling in sheets. She had told him something he didn't want to hear. Claire had sat before him, her hands folded, her head down and brilliant blue eyes distant.

"They found the body of a woman today…" she had said.

He did not say anything, for he did not understand why this was so peculiar at first. The younger woman had paused, looked him square in the eyes, and something inside of him seemed to crumble and fall.

"Ada Wong."

Ada Wong had been found, the infamous beautiful woman that had ghosted his life, in such a characteristic pose. She had been killed in her sleep, throat slit by an assassin (_how ironic_).

Claire was called to deal with this matter, as this woman was a bioterrorist extraordinaire, and she did not have to tell him this information, but she did.

"I… knew you liked her…"

He couldn't say anything, his words evaporated into nothingness.

The rain poured endlessly and harshly, beating the window of his apartment without mercy…

Claire left that night after tea and condolences. He repeated that it was fine, that he was fine, he repeated the mantra to her, however hollow those words were.

"I'm fine," he told himself "She was just toying with me in the end," he said to himself as the mirror reflected a man in grief.

He shuddered as a chill ran up his spine. She was staring at him from that mirror, her eyes in place of his own. He leapt from the mirror, and yet the apparition stood her ground, pale palms against the glass, and eyes unblinking.

"…Ada."

She did not answer, or respond, simply stared at him with those deadly eyes of hers. Even in death, she was stunning, her skin chalk white and lips rimmed gray along the creases. "Paranormal" couldn't describe the intensity of that spirit's gaze, as if she longed for something, was staring at something she desired.

"Why… are…"

He must have sounded like a fool, or insane, with his chopped words and breathless questions, but if she thought so, she gave no indication. Her lips parted, and they were cracked, but they were hypnotizing, for she mouthed words he could not understand, eyes never blinking. Her words, he could not hear, nor read from her lips, but they were there…

"I… can't hear you."

He felt cold… As if the room had suddenly dropped temperature, as if that rain outside, was inside of his body, washing through his veins…

She smirked, so characteristic of her, bowing her head, hiding those eyes behind her silky black hair. She invited him with her mere silence, her unmoving smirk, her palms begging to be touched, and god… he was entranced…

"Ada…" he murmured, and he swore the name came out with a puff of steam from his chapped lips. How could it, though, when he had the heater on in his bedroom? His feet were moving closer, closer to that mirror, closer to her dead ghost, her beautiful ghost… touching his palms against the glass, against her cold, dead ones.

She did not move, and he was shivering from the chill, for it was so cold… So ungodly cold… Her palms, he could feel her skin through the glass, her icy, dead skin.

"You can't be dead…"

Her lips formed more silent words, he felt colder. He felt her hands upon his body, her fingers on his stomach, on his chest, on his thighs, but these were touches he could not see, merely feel. She lifted her head, her eyes were on him again…

Ada… she was the thing he desired, his star-crossed lover, his Juliet, and he knew this, and she knew this… He knew she knew… by the look in her eyes.

He pressed his lips to the glass, and she mirrored him. She was so cold… He felt breathless, as if he was drowning, drowning in her ghost, drowning in her memory, drowning for her, because of her.

He was choking then, wasn't he? She was stealing him, suffocating him with her cold lips. He was choking then, dying, but that was alright, wasn't it?

* * *

Claire had come back for her cell phone, and found him outside in the rain and ice, eyes closed and head back, like a statue, like a person attempting to escape his own body in the weather. He was shivering, he was coughing, and yet he did not move from his spot, hands pressed against an invisible wall, as if leaning against it for support.

"Leon! Oh god!"

He was white as a sheet, and as cold as a ghost, searching for spirits to take him away…

Her eyes were watching him through the glass.


End file.
